


Seven Years of Mistletoe

by FuLaiMingJuTu



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:20:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28287609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuLaiMingJuTu/pseuds/FuLaiMingJuTu
Summary: Seven times Dele and Sonny saw a mistletoe.
Relationships: Dele Alli/Son Heung-min
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	Seven Years of Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> Just Merry Christmas. 圣诞快乐。

  
**December 2015**

_"Aren't you gonna open that?"_

  
"Okay lads time for gifts." Mauricio Pochettino can't wait for his favorite part. Christmas is arguably the only time of year he actually like it here in London. Yes, it rains six days in a week but at least you can have a white Christmas. Snow and roasted chestnuts and Mariah Carey. What's not to love about this?

Dele Alli can think of ten reasons. Like how he spent every December 24th eating store bought turkey and posing for a family portrait with one big missing piece. Or how he can't go to a grocery store without having to listen to that same song for thirty minutes straight. And that song is now playing in this dressing room at White Hart Lane.

Not that song again. Hated that song. Probably would be taken as a sociopath but Dele hates Christmas and is not keen on hiding the fact. The trees, the festive look on people's face, and the song. Especially the song. Dele frowned at the finely wrapped box handed to him. He can tell this probably took the Argentine an afternoon to wrap. So kitschy, nice of him but still, kitschy.

"Aren't you gonna open that?"

And it's Son Heung-Min. Of course it's Son Heung-Min. Dele thought. Only him would idle about the dressing room minding someone else's business.

"Ya I'll. When I go home." Please don't ask anymore questions. Please don't ask any more questions. Dele hoped but he know Son's gonna ask some more questions.

" But I wanna see what's in it."

"I thought you opened yours." Dele said, pouting towards Son's already unwrapped box.

"But I wanna see if yours is any different!" Son took the liberty to rip off the bow on the box," C'mon it's already opened now, you gotta finish that."

Dele rolled his eyes, slighted annoyed but still went ahead and tore off the wrapping papers. He can feel the South Korean's excitement as he opened that box. What's there to be excited about? "It's just gonna be the same as yours."

"I know but just see-"

And Dele saw. A shinny metal Mate tea cup set. A nice gesture from his Argentine manager but nothing too special, and certainly nothing worthy of _that_ level of excitement from Son.

"Very nice. Love it. Gracias Míster." Dele's words of gratitude barely sounds grateful but Pochettino doesn't mind. Everyone knows it's just Dele being Dele. "Now can we go? Do you want a ride or not?" Dele said to his hitchhiker.

Son wanted to say something but Dele already tossed the box in the bin, along with it's exquisite filler and decoration. He followed Dele into the car, and knows he will never have another chance say what he wanted to say.

" There is a twig of mistletoe in it." 

  
**December 2017**

_"Guess we gotta follow the rules."_

Sonny: Kev sends kisses y'all  
  
Hugo: You with him?  
  
Sonny: Ya he's at my place  
  
  
I strolled down the group chat "The Mighty Lilywhites". The usual, the usual, Sonny being funny, Harry trying to be funny , the usual. Then I saw what I saw. " Kev". "Kev sends kisses"."Kev's at my place."  
  
Kevin Wimmer, Son Heung-min's pick for best friend. Obviously I couldn't care less because I'm not a petty 10-year-old, it's just I get a bit uncomfortable when they giggles in unintelligible German. I mean it's totally disrespectful right? Nothing against him of course but I did jumped a little when he was sold to Stoke in the summer. Of course it's sad but at least now I don't have to ever see him and Son making German-speaker-only jokes. But still, nothing against him.......nothing against "Kev".  
  
And now Kev is "at my place". What's he even doing here in London? Shouldn't he be in training? Oh right they got Christmas in Stoke, too. But shouldn't he be in Austria? Christmas is to be with family. What? Is his family in London? In Son Heung-min's house? I mean of course I couldn't careless if they're still hanging out together but isn't the whole thing a bit fishy?  
  
"Wow how long is he staying in London?" And press send. What? I'm just being caring to my ex-teammate.  
  
Sonny: 5 more days I think  
  
"Cool, at his old apartment?" What? I'm just concerned for my ex-teammate's accommodation.  
  
Sonny: No at my place  
  
Now you have gotta be kidding me. That cheeky Austrian actually had the audacity to, to stay at his friends place.......Trust me this is more serious than it sounds, not that I care of course, obvs.  
  
Okay gotta get this out of my mind, like, who are they to ruin my Christmas mood. They're both guys so how bad can it be? For all we know they're probably just chilling and Netflixing.......alone......in an apartment ......Netflixing......not that I care-  
  
_Oh fuck it I care._  
  
-  
  
" Sonny you got a package." Kevin Kimmer handed him a gift box wrapped in dark green, "Very Christmassy," he reached his arms around his neck from behind and buried his head in his shoulder, "you're loved."  
  
He opened the box. A golden mistletoe twig lying in tiny foam balls, and a card: Sending you a thousand kisses.  
  
A mistletoe. Sonny's memories start flashing back. This is not a real mistletoe and he is not Dele. But he is right here.  
  
"Guess we gotta follow the rules." Son looked at the Austrian's icy blue eyes.  
  
"With pleasure." And the Austrian leaned forward.  
  
-  
  
"Hahaha he's gonna think Sonny has a fling with someone else." Dele Alli thought, pleased with his wrapping skills.

  
**December 2019**

_"Close enough."_

"Genius pass from Dele Alli! Son is at the wing!"

"Brilliant play by Son! Look at his pace! What a run!"

"He's still going! Can he finish?!"

"He can!!! It's in!! What a screamer! A sensational goal from Heung-Min Son, assited by Dele Alli! Securing a massive win for spurs at North London! Indeed a very merry Christmas for the Tottenham supporters!"

He took the ball, he kept the ball, he kept going and he put it in the back of the net. He ran towards the edge of the pitch, towards the south stand, and stood in front of the crowd. An applauding, cheering, singing crowd.

And the crowd is singing his name.

His mind is empty, overwhelmed by adrenaline and hormones. Cheers ringing around the arena, feathery snowflakes kissed the green field and melted on his lashes. He can feel everything. Christian's arms around his waist, Harry's whispers in his ear, Moussa's chest bumping his. 

A million thoughts flooded his mind within seconds in his euphoria. The lifeless winter streets in Tottenham are brought to life with pine trees and tinsel, pulsed with carols and laughter. A bizarre feeling flowing through his veins, his satisfaction, his ambition and his redemption singing in perfect harmony.

Everything is back in place. He can feel it. His performance, his career, his future at Tottenham. And the kiss on his neck.

Dele Alli is mesmerized. This is the man he spent four years side by side, as teammates, as brothers, as close as there can be. A man that's brought him every emotion known to man. He almost hated how he know so much about him, how someone he thought is just another passerby is now imprinted on him, how his heart and mind can be tied down to a single man. 

_"Sonny."_

Son didn't have to turn back to know. It's his. He can tell from that warm, deep breath burning on his ear; the slim body holding him from behind, leaving but a narrow gap between them, harboring a scent of skin and sweat; the slightly peeling lips printed on his skin, sending shivers up and down his spine, tingling with excitement.

_"Sonny."_

Both wanted to be reciprocated, but neither will be.

The scattered whispers travelled through the air, through the crowd, through the sound of the stadium. He let go. And Son headed back to the kickoff circle. And the game went on. Yet for a second he turned his head back towards the south stand, as if trying to relive that moment even for a only second more.

Snowflakes graced a glimpse of green on the side wall of the south stand. Twigs of mistletoe dotted with red berries.

"Close enough." Son thought.

  
**December 2021**

_"And mistletoes ."_

  
Life in N17 is far from ideal, but I didn't came London for the fun. Train. Play. Rest. Repeat. My life in at Tottenham is simplicity itself, maybe except for one turbulence. The turbulence that started with _"Dele has joined the group chat"_ and ended with _"Dele has left the group chat"_ _._

One thing you need to know about me is that I'm not your average footballer, who play for either glory or money. I play because of mission, a mission that requires full concentration and careful planning. I'm the type of person that likes everything to go exactly the way I planned, whether it's my life, my career, or just a morning's drive to the airport. And everything is going exactly the way I planned, everything except Dele Alli.

"Don't you feel just a little bit sad?" He asked me at Heathrow almost a year ago. His flight to Paris is taking off in thirty minutes and he figured it will be a good time to ask me questions.

"Sad for what? That you're about to be rolling with money?" As much as I'd like to get him on that plane, I knew he's not leaving without an answer.

"No, that we've came to this."

"I-" I didn't expect him to get this serious," You're still a quality player and you always will be, just because you don't fit into Mourinho's tactics doesn't change anything. And Paris is a very big club, you'll be playing alongside the likes of Neymar and Mbappe......."

"No I mean us." He got even more serious, "Ironic isn't it? I have feelings for you and you have feelings for me, but here we are."

Yes, here we are. And it _is_ ironic, ironic that he is the one talking about feelings. As if he's not the one playing it safe for five fucking years, and suddenly found the gut to say those fucking words just before he's fucking leaving. Did he expect me to spend the rest of my life regretting what could have been? Did he expect him to leave with him? If not, why doing this when the moment, the countless moments that could have made things happened, are already gone?

I'm honestly happy that he's gone. The one thing in my life that constantly interrupts my plan, the one part in my life that is unpredictable, is gone. But he is part of my life. As much as interrupting and unpredictable, he is part of my life. There is still someone who I share my handshakes with, someone who I drive to trainings with, some who I go to dinner parties with.

But there will be no one like him.

The first thing I do in the morning is to check the weather in Paris. The last thing I do before bed is to check the date. Clear, cloudy, yellow weather warning. Day 1, day 2, day 300. I lived through winter to winter in Paris with him, I lived through winter to winter in London without him.

Really not a great time for Santa Claus to come to town. The happy faces on the street only added to my fear that I'm slowly turning into him. It's always easy to hate this time of the year when all I want for Christmas is on the other side of the channel.

"Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow airport......" So kitschy, even the pub is showing Love Actually. But the end of December really is a good time to be kitschy. And as if the spell of Mariah Carey has got hold of me, next thing a know I've dialed those spelling numbers.

"Shall I book for Paris or to you come to London?"

"London, "And he's not even surprised, as if he can see my sleepless nights and my shivering hands across the channel, "much more festive at Heathrow, trees and wreathes and ......."

“And mistletoes.” And mistletoes.


End file.
